Theraputic Kidnapping
by Ferayne
Summary: “Potter, I...uh...what do you think you’re doing?” Draco asked suddenly, “You can’t just kidnap me and take me to your house and give me an amazing massage and then sit there in front of me looking like the cat that got the cream.”


* * *

Disclaimer: Of course I don't own Harry Potter. Damn.

* * *

Draco sighed, stretching muscles which screamed protest at having been held in the same position for far too long. A foul mood had settled over his office, sending an ominous aura lurking around the door. There had been far too many incidents this week at work, with stacks of paperwork for each problem. Sometimes it was like being the head Potions Master for the Ministry of Magic had more to do with writing down boring recipes and recording effects of new potions than actually making the potions themselves.

Cracking his knuckles, he winced as his back twinged particularly painfully. Downing too many potions in order to heal physical pain would, he knew, have adverse effects on him, and he gritted his teeth instead as he paused to sign yet another report. Flicking his wand, the report sealed itself in an envelope, which then sprouted wings, flew through a slot out the door, and made its way to god-knows-where.

He leant back in his chair, falling into a daydream for a moment. Of course, he would deny ever daydreaming about anyone or anything, because daydreaming was a most unbecoming activity for a Malfoy. Not for the first time that day he wondered whether he would catch a glimpse of his one-time rival and current love interest. He very rarely caught the other man at the Ministry's small cafes or bookstores, and despite travelling around almost the whole of London, come the postwar period he would have been hard pressed to see Harry but once a month. One thing was for sure, it wasn't for lack of trying.

Having opted to join the other side for the greater good of the wizarding community and a moral change of heart – in other words, Draco did _not_ want to play demented Death Eater to his father's idol – Draco had managed to overcome his preconceptions about people and had reached a somewhat friendly agreement with Harry and his friends. Having managed to convert other Slytherins to the Order of the Phoenix probably helped as well, and Ginny was forever grateful for the introduction of one Blaise Zabini into her life.

_He's like a sexy Dean Thomas_, she'd giggled one day, and Draco had almost lost his breakfast.

It was Harry that took the most convincing, and it was only after Hermione had brewed a Veritaserum potion in front of the great git and made a show of pouring it into Draco's mouth that he finally relaxed. Afterwards he had been the closest thing to a best friend Draco had ever had. Unfortunately, his new job required long hours at the office during weekdays and despite persistent owls to Harry, insisting they catch up for lunch, Draco had yet to con Harry into a date.

A timid knocking at his door brought him out of his reverie, and he all but snapped, "What is it _now_?"

A nervous-looking witch stuck her head around the door, almost _ran_ to his desk, deposited a letter, and ran back out, forgetting to close the door in her hurry. Draco waved a hand, slamming the door and rattling the paintings in his office. Ignoring the protests of the occupants of the paintings, he picked up the letter. It opened itself, and the voice of Hermione Weasley, Minister of Magic, read it out loud.

_Dear Mr. Malfoy,_

_You are hereby summoned, by the Minister of Magic, to report to the Employees Medical Office, located, of course, on the fourth floor. It is important that you inform the secretary of an appointment at 4:00pm_.

_Yours sincerely, _

_Hermione Weasley._

_P.S. You'll thank me for it later._

Draco squinted at it, utterly confused, before looking up and noticing that it was currently three fifty in the afternoon.He stood, recognising a poorly disguised _order_ – summoned, indeed! – and made his way down to the fourth floor.

* * *

A distinctly ruffled witch in her mid-thirties peered up at him and then shuffled through an appointment book.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Malfoy. Head down the hall and take the third door on your left."

"Might I ask what this is all about?" Draco asked somewhat impatiently. He still had paperwork to finish, not that it needed to be done for another week yet.

"Um, one moment." The witch replied. She flicked back to the page his appointment was on and read a small note that had been added in what Draco recognised as Hermione's neat handwriting.

"Ah, yes, yes. The Minister for Magic has decided that your work habits are quite unhealthy, and has organised a therapy session, which you are welcome to organise again, in order to relieve muscle tension and relax you."

Draco gave her an incredulous look, and she merely shrugged. Muttering to himself, Draco headed down the hall, going into the room he was told to enter. A figure turned towards him and gave him a very big, very familiar grin.

"Hey Malfoy." Harry said calmly.

"...Huh?" was Draco's intelligent reply. Harry – the very person he had wanted to see for a while - was standing in front of him in jeans and a very nicely-fitting green polo t-shirt.

Harry rolled his eyes, stepping towards him. "Nice to see you too, yes, I'm fine thank you. And yourself?"

"...Eh?"

_THINK, Draco, you gormless git!_

"Uh, I mean. Hello, Ha-Potter. What exactly are you doing here?"

"Well after the war, I decided to become a Healer. I spend half my time here, dealing with minor things, and the other half running around in St. Mungo's. I specialise in massage, here." There was a small smile on Harry's lips that indicated he'd heard Draco's near-slip of the tongue, but Draco's panic was overridden by a stab of jealousy for every person to have had Harry's hands on them like _that_. Suddenly, Draco before he realised what he had been sent here for.

"And Granger-"

"Weasley."

"has decided that I need a massage?" Draco finished as though Harry hadn't spoken.

"Obviously." Harry drawled in a way so reminiscent of Severus when the Umbridge cow had interrogated him in front of their class in fifth year that Draco couldn't help but chuckle. Harry, in turn, merely smiled again, making Draco smile back.

"You look good when you smile." Harry said suddenly, "You should do it more often."

"I don't normally have a reason to." Draco muttered.

Harry shrugged, and then motioned for Draco to sit on a massage table that he conjured into the middle of the room. Draco did so gracefully, already undoing the buttons on his shirt. If Harry was surprised, he gave no sign of it. Once he was down to his boxers, Draco laid down on his stomach. There was a building, awkward tension as Harry silently moved over to the counter, presumably for massage oils and the like.

"Oh, damn. Could you hold this for a second?" Harry was asking him. Draco sat up with a sigh, stretching out his hand for the bottle Harry held towards him. His hands closed around it, brushing against Harry's, and with a triumphant grin, Harry waited.

"What _are _you doing?" Draco asked impatiently. Harry was acting quite weird – perhaps the war had addled his brain? Suddenly, Draco felt a pull at his stomach, and his eyes flew upwards to Harry's as the portkey spun them out of the Ministry building.

Back in her office, Hermione chuckled as the clock's hands fell to four fifteen.

* * *

Draco landed on something soft and bouncy, something which he was grateful for because the unexpected portkey travelling meant he landed flat on his face. He registered this soft, bouncy object as a bed, resplendent in dark green and brown sheets. He made to sit up, and was gently pushed back down, not uncomfortably.

He opened his mouth to snarl at Harry, when a pair of hands descended onto his back and started working out the knots in _just_ the right way. The snarl turned into a groan, quickly muffled in embarrassment. Harry worked on him for a good half an hour, and just as Draco thought he would possibly melt into the bed, the hands stopped.

His eyes flew open and this time he really did sit up, ready to protest. He was met by a shy smile, since sitting up meant his face was directly in front of Harry's.

"Potter, I...uh...what do you think you're doing?" Draco asked suddenly, "You can't just kidnap me and take me to your house and give me an amazing massage and then sit there in front of me looking like the cat that got the cream." He clamped his mouth shut at the image his last sentence brought to his mind, and apparently Harry's mind too, something that was not at all discouraging to Draco.

"Well," Harry said, still inches away from Draco, "I think I'm relieving your tension, which is what you wanted, right?"

"Me? I didn't want...well I suppose that was...sufficient." Draco tried. "Uh. How do we get back to the office?"

Harry licked his lips, reminding Draco exactly how much he did _not_ want to go back to the office.

"But...Malfoy. Draco," he added, and the aforementioned male drew a sharp breath.

"Yes, Harry?" he asked in his best innocently sexy voice, "Is there something you _want_ from me?"

Harry swore under his breath, and then, a little louder, "Oh, piss it."

And then his hands were on Draco's hips, sliding up across his chest, and then they were around his neck, tangled in his hair, and then he was _kissing_ Draco and it was all Draco could do not to fall backwards ungracefully. He managed to turn it into a gentle descent towards the bed, and then he rolled over onto Harry and was kissing him just as fervently back.

"Why?" Harry managed to gasp as Draco found a particularly sensitive spot just next to his collar bone.

"Why not?" Draco replied simply. He ran his tongue along the outer shell of Harry's ear and was rewarded with another gasp.

Harry chuckled, and Draco pulled away. "I think my plan is backfiring on me." Harry admitted.

Draco smirked. "That's what you get for trying to seduce me."

"I"m not com_-plai_-ning." Harry managed to say as Draco placed a palm against his crotch. Tugging at his clothes, he managed to strip down to his boxers, only to find that Draco was now naked. _In his bed_.

Harry groaned and launched himself at the paler male, rubbing and licking and biting as much of him as was physically possibly. He pulled away, looking very pleased with himself when Draco let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like '_fuck_'.

"That's not very couture of you, Draco."

"Shut up." Draco retorted, rolling over so he was on top of Harry again. Moving down, he yanked off the offending boxers, and took Harry into his mouth without any warning at all, using as much of his skill – which was _very_ well honed – at once.

"_SHIT!_"

"Ha."

"I said 'shit', not 'fuck'." Harry murmured, sitting up to glare at him.

"You _screamed_ it though." Draco replied, running his tongue along a particularly sensitive spot. Whatever argument Harry had was cut off by a strangled noise, and he fell back onto the bed.

Draco languidly crawled up to Harry, kissing him _quite_ deeply and rubbing their bodies together that Harry forfeited any ridiculous thought that he was still in control.

"You win, you win! Just do somethii-iing." The last part came out as soft wail as Draco moved against him.

Draco shook his head. "I think you deserve to suffer for kidnapping me like that. What would you have done if I wasn't interested?"

"Died of embarrassment."

"Or a killing curse."

"You wouldn't..."

Draco paused, seemingly in thought, and Harry put on his best puppy-dog look. Draco rolled his eyes, placing another kiss on Harry's lips.

"You're right, of course. I must ask though, how _were_ you so sure I was interested?" Draco murmured against his ear, moving against him yet again.

"I wasn't. But Herm – ah - ione said I'd done – oh _God _- enough avoiding youuu! And that I should – ah! - _Stop that!_" Harry glared, "It's really hard to talk when you do _thaaat..._mmm."

Draco couldn't help but laugh quietly. "Are you sure you want me to stop?"

"Shut up."

"Speak for yourself."

Harry's response was to lightly drag a finger over Draco's erection, while the other hand ran down his back. Draco lurched forward – Harry really was _very_ good with his hands, especially when he twisted his fist around in _that_ way, and oh my God, that felt _very_ nice.

"Thank you." Harry winked, and Draco realised he'd said the last few words aloud. He shook his head and shifted slightly, his leg coming into contact with something cold. Looking over, he groaned in disbelief.

"Are you telling me that the portkey was a bottle of _lube_?" He exclaimed.

Harry shrugged. "It seemed pretty convenient."

"I suppose so." Draco sighed, flicking open the cap. Harry watched somewhat nervously as his blond lover coated his fingers in the lube. Never breaking eye contact with him, Harry managed to relax as the first finger pushed into him, and only winced once a third was added.

It was only when Draco had positioned himself over Harry that the latter seemed to realise the situation he was in.

"Oh my God, this is too weird." Harry muttered, and Draco had to agree.

"Never expected to find yourself here, hm?" he whispered silkily into Harry's ear, eliciting a shaky breath.

"No, never," came the reply, "but don't stop now."

"I most certainly will not." He pushed forward slowly, allowing Harry ample time to adjust to each movement. Shaking his head, he chuckled, albeit nervously. "You've obviously never done this before."

"No shit." Harry ground out, wincing as Draco shifted again, "When does this get better?"

His blond lover pushed forward again, this time grasping his somewhat diminishing erection. At the same time, the angle changed and Harry choked.

"Dear _God_."

"Draco will do."

"That's so overused." Harry glared. The glare was soon replaced by a vacant expression as Draco pulled out, and this in turn was replaced by a look somewhere between shock and ecstasy when Draco pushed back in.

A slow, sensual rhythm was soon established, and once all the pain had vanished completely, Harry tugged on a pale waist and Draco willingly obliged, picking up the pace. The movements became harder, more frantic, and less smooth, particularly when Harry began moaning with each thrust. It was when a wail that sounded suspiciously like his name, followed by a warm splash on his chest that Draco choked back a sob of delight, buried his face in Harry's shoulder, coming abruptly. Not that he was complaining, of course.

Exhausted, he fell on top of Harry with a low growl, running his tongue along the other man's neck. This was received with a weak whimper, and a muscular arm snaked around his back, pulling him even closer.

"Mmm," Harry sighed contently, managing to perform a hasty cleaning spell. They were still sweaty, however, but Draco ignored it.

"Enjoy that?"

"Are you kidding? I mean, I may need an arse transplant, but I'd be okay with that."

"I wouldn't, it's a great arse."

"It's a sore arse."

"You'll get used to it."

Harry shifted a little so he could look Draco in the eyes. "This wasn't a one-off thing?"

"Fuck off, Potter." Draco said, ever eloquent, and rolled over so that _his_ sexy new boyfriend was snug in his arms.

"Good." Came the whispered reply, and Draco smiled into a sweaty shoulder before bolting upright again. He was exhausted, but _very_ relaxed, and this reminded him of work.

"Well, I hope our dear Minister understands why I simply can't come back to work today."

* * *


End file.
